


Object Of Obsession

by Queen_Cuntpunt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, F/M, Obsession, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Cuntpunt/pseuds/Queen_Cuntpunt
Summary: Antonin Dolohov could think of little else but a certain mudblood during his stint in Azkaban, and now that he is free once much he decides to pay a visit to the young witch that had been on his mind since their battle in the Ministry Of Magic.





	Object Of Obsession

Prompts: 4AM

With Voldemort long gone one would think Anotonin Dolohov would no longer be skulking about in the wee hours of the morning, but those people would be wrong. You see there are many things you learn when under the service of a truly dark wizard, things the schools don't teach you. Sure Hogwartz briefly covered the unforgivable spells, but they never went into detail the way their dark lord did. The thing they will teach you in school is that unforgivable spells like the imperious spell could be resisted, what they wont teach you is that they become near impossible to resist when the defender is asleep.

Which brings us to 4am. In short the time of day Antonin knows his target is safe asleep in her bed, well asleep at least, safety was hardly guaranteed especially with a former death eater lurking about. Breaking down the wards was child's play, something that almost disappointed him. He had expected more of this woman, the so called brains of the golden trio. After all, just about everyone claimed Harry Potter could have never defeated Lord Voldemort without her. Yet here she was, weak wards, home out in the open, not noticing a strangers following her for weeks on end studying her the way he once diligently studied the many spellbooks in his fathers personal library.

Even now she slept peacefully. Blissfully unaware of the strange man observing her from the edge of her bed. He had expected so much more, after all she bested him not once, not twice, but three times in his mind. First the twit had managed to silence him in a duel, a trick nobody had pulled on him since his own mother. Than she had the audacity to survive a curse of his own making, a spell which had burned many of his victims from the inside out. And finally she had managed to defeat him in a duel and managed to wipe just about his entire memory of the event. Still, she was just a child at the time, not the best with mind-altering spells or perhaps she had been rushed. He knew it was her. He could feel her magic swirling around inside head after he finally came to.

That was something else Hogwartz didn't feel the need to cover. Every-bodies magic was different. Pureblood, Half-blood, Mudblood everybody had a different magical trace. Dumbledore may be a mudblood lover, eager to let the weaker wizards into their life but the truth was plain to anybody that knew what they were looking for. The magic of muggleborns was weak, plain, and at times barely noticeable. But not hers. No, her magic sparked and tingled, and pulsed with the same strength as he had come to expect of his fellow purebloods. It was a feeling he couldn't forget, even after all these years. Now the girl was grown, but the magic was very much the same. 

He let a hand slide to the edge of the mattress, pulling the thick duvet away from the flesh of her leg. Careful not to disturb her, although she appeared to be a deep sleeper, something he was surprised was possible for a person with such a pivotal role in the war. Personally he was never so comfortable, there was always a part of him on edge, high alert, ever vigilant. Even now, being near her when she had no idea of his presence he had a tight grip on his wand, his eyes sharp and focused searching for any hint that something was wrong. 

With the most gentle of touches he reached out to stroke the skin he exposed. Soft, silky smooth, and yet most enthralling was feeling that same soft hum of magic. The gentle crackling sensation of her magic brushing against him. The barely there tickle of his fingertips elicited a tiny gasp from the sleeping woman. But other than the soft noise she remained still in her slumber.

His hand twitched as he raised his wand, weighing his options carefully. A sleeping witch could hardly fight off the imperious curse, of that he was certain, what he was less certain of was what to command of her. Truly he could command complete compliance, but where was the fun in that. Sure the mudblood would do whatever he said, but she would be no more lively than a porcelain doll. And although keeping her completely under his control was the safest option it was hardly the most appealing. Every instance he had ever encountered her she was full of life and full of fight. A compliant victim would hardly be her. 

After a few silent minutes of weighing his options he came to a decision. It was a surefire way to ensure he got both the fight he craved from the witch, the certainty that he would maintain the upper-hand, and a sweet bit of payback for her spellwork in the Hall of Mysteries. He focused his mind, repeating one phrase over and over again: “Do not make a sound.” and with a steady voice called out the spell “Imperio!”

The sudden noise jolted his quarry awake, a frantic look on her features as she glanced wildly about her bedroom before landing on the intruder. Her hand made a quick move to her pillow and his gentle touch turned into a grip as he pulled her down the bed away from where he imagined she had stashed her wand for bedtime. She may be spelled to silence, but he wouldn't put it past the witch to be able to cast a few nonverbal spells. 

Within seconds he had her flush to his waist, the hand that had grabbed her by the ankle now gripping her two delicate wrist and pinning them to the bed above her. She was breathing heavy, mouth open as though she were trying to scream despite the fact that the spell wouldn't allow her to. She would have to focus to break out of the imperious, and Anotonin was fairly certain he had her full focus at the second. 

“It isn't very fun to be spelled to silence is it Miss Granger?” He asked, leaning forward and applying more weight to her arms which trembled with the effort to shake free of his grip. Wide frightened eyes narrowed in response to his comment, her body jerking upwards in an attempt to throw him off. He pressed firmly against the witch, draping over her lithe frame to limit her movement. He could feel the movement of her jaw as she continued trying to speak, likely hurling insults and threats at him, but still no sound came out. Silly little thing probably suspected he had cast a simple silencing spell, probably thought it would wear off soon or even that she could break the spell. 

“I guess the next question is, do you remember me?” The witch continued to squirm beneath him. He hadn't expected an answer, obviously, he had wanted to taunt her. He knew the spell he had hit her with, knew the pain and agony it caused, she may have survived the spell but it certainly wouldn't have been without great suffering. She had been looking right at him when he had cast it too, likely his face had been burned forever in her memory the moment those purple flames had hit her. He wondered if she had nightmares of the event, if she ever looked over her shoulder after their interactions at the ministry and that shitty muggle diner fearing that he would be there. Did she know he was an incredible tracker? Did she fear the day he would decide to hunt her down. Had she kept track of the prisoners from the war and panic when his name mysteriously disappeared from the Azkaban roster?

Did she wonder how he escaped? She should, she had been the motivation. There wasn't a day in that ministry run shithole he hadn't thought of the witch. It was all he could think about, at least in prior incarcerations the dementors, although horrible, had kept him somewhat preoccupied with trying to maintain his mind. Now the prison was guarded solely by aurors, guards which would rather pretend their charges didn't exist. His guards had been particularly neglectful, using spells to deliver his meals so they wouldn't have to see him. They had only come by once a week to check on him with a mediwitch. He had watched the papers for weeks after his escape, waiting for news to break, but it never did. It seemed the new ministry was just as prone to cover up its fuck-ups as the old ministry. Some things never did change.

“I remember you,” he continued, pulling his head back enough to look her in the eyes as he said it. “You were all I could think about after the war.” He had to give her credit, the little gryffindor didn't tear away from his gaze, instead meeting it with an intensity he hadn't expected. “Every night in that little cell I thought about all the things I would do to you, I'm sure you realize a man with my expertise would have many options at his disposal.” Her body trembled at that, the smallest reaction, but with their closeness there was no way he would miss it. 

With a slow movement he lowered his wand, placing it with taunting closeness to the witches side. Her eyes watched the weapon like a lifeline, as though he would ever let her get her hands on it, as if she could even use a wand that wasn't her own to cast nonverbal. His hand now free he reached down to play with a strand of hair by her neck. It was softer than he imagined, and boy had he imagined. There are only so many violent fantasies one can have before they begin to turn into something more carnal.

He had very much started his Azkaban stay with daydreams of blood, and torture, eventual murder. Even without a wand on his person he had dedicated time in his cell to fabricating new spells just to use on this particular witch. He new the incantations he would need, and the proper wand work to get the results he wanted. He could likely add an entire new spell book to his family library thanks to his gruesome fascination with the little chit and all his “free time” in Azkaban. 

Over time his violent obsession had changed. He couldn't be certain when, but slowly he couldn't help but admire the young muggleborn. Very few people had ever bested him in combat, and never once had one of them been a child still learning. She had shown great potential, if a mere schoolgirl could best him in a duel she was sure to grow into an immensely powerful witch. There was nothing more impressive in the pureblood circle than power. Even Rowle had a muggleborn grandmother, accepted in their society due to her sheer magical ability. 

Hell his thoughts even drifted beyond her magical ability at a point. The last time he had seen her was just a glimpse during the Battle for Hogwartz. The poor thing had been so very thin from her time on the run, drenched from head to toe, her hair more tangled than even Bellatrix's wild locks, she was bruised in places and bleeding in others. Still she was stunning, the way her hair flew about her wildly as she traversed the battleground, the way her skin glowed with a rainbow of colors as spells shot all around her, the way her eyes lit up with determination every time she caught sight of an enemy, especially the sensual way her lips moved as she commanded the powerful magic inside of her. Te lustful thoughts had thrown him off at first, disgusted him even, but over time they had taken over. 

Anotnin had hoped beyond hope that seeing the girl again would quell those thoughts. Hoped that it would make him realize she was just a lucky witch, and his infatuation was just due to his one track mind when it came to revenge. Yet here she was and without a doubt attacking her was out of the question. Years of savage spell creation wasted now that he had his object of obsession pinned beneath him. A sudden hard jerk from his captive returned his focus from his musings. 

“We are going to have so much fun together.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to add some smut, but I've been super distracted by both a newborn and a medical emergency so I'm gonna post this for now for the prompt due-date.


End file.
